Strange bedfellows
by Rowen-bsg
Summary: A bomb on the station threatens the lives of the alien ambassadors.
1. Chapter 1

**Strange Bedfellows**

by Ruth Owen

_Disclaimer: Babylon 5 belongs to somebody else. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while._

This story is my addition to the 'train wreck' genre.

Many, many thanks once again to Kathleen for her patient beta reading and invaluable comments.

The setting is in Season 3 after 'Grey 17 is Missing' but before 'And the Rock cried out no Hiding Place.'

_Extra note: This story was written somewhere between 1993 and 1997. I'm currently in the process of uploading some of my old fanfiction to the archive._

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"So you see," John Sheridan was saying to the Vree and Gaim delegates seated in his office across the desk from him. "We could increase... "

boom

"What the...!"

There was nothing more than a faint booming noise - like the sound of a distant thunderstorm, and a slight shift in the contents of his desk, but it was enough to propel Sheridan from his office toward C&C at a dead run, leaving two very confused aliens behind in his wake.

"Report," he ordered tersely into his link, cursing the slow speed of the tube.

"Captain." It was Ivanova's voice; in the background he could hear an amalgam of people talking and alerts sounding. "Explosion on Station."

"Where?" He came through the doors of C&C into barely controlled chaos, weaving his way through the bodies rushing back and forth to his second-in-command's side.

"Green Sector," Ivanova returned, not taking her eyes from her console, her hands skimming across the controls. "Containment crews have already been scrambled."

"What level?" he demanded.

"Can't say. It was fairly powerful - knocked out the main EPS and sensor channels into the entire sector, so we're not getting any readings in or out."

Sheridan smacked his hand violently into the railing. God! There were hundreds of alien residents of green sector... All the Ambassadors, their staff, families... Delenn...

"Seal of all traffic into and out of the station," he ordered Corwin, who was holding a communication panel.

"Aye, Sir. Station lock-down in progress," the young lieutenant acknowledged calmly, sending out the message to the ships in the docking bay ready to depart as well as those floating outside awaiting entry.

"Also, send a message to the Vree and Gaim Ambassadors who are waiting in my office that I will be... delayed."

Corwin nodded, doing as requested.

Ivanova tapped at her panel, frowning. "Power to the area is completely shot," she confirmed. "I'd also hazard a guess that life support is out."

"Is it possible to reroute..." Sheridan began, but was interrupted by a comm channel opening.

"Garibaldi to C&C." The security chief's voice crackled over the link.

"Go ahead, Michael," Sheridan said with a calmness he didn't feel.

"Green sector's a mess, Captain." The man was coughing in between his words. "We're putting the fires out now."

"Injured?"

"A damn lot - shrapnel blasted some, others were hit when part of the superstructure collapsed. More with smoke-inhalation. I count... maybe eight or nine casualties at the moment. It's all been completely turned upside down. There's no way to tell just how many are trapped in the collapsed sections."

Sheridan swallowed hard.

"What happened? Was it accidental?"

Garibaldi paused, then: "It's too early to tell, but my gut-instinct tells me this wasn't any accident." A scream of tortured metal and people crying 'look out' could be heard in the background of the transmission.

John clenched his fists, staring out the window at the cold starlight. Everyone in the frantic control room seemed to hold their breath, waiting...

"Stuff's collapsing around us still," Garibaldi's voice returned suddenly.

"Can you tell where the explosion originated?" The muscles along Sheridan's jaw stood out in sharp relief.

More coughing. "I'd put it somewhere around the main Ambassadorial Wing. The facade looks like it's just staying up and holes have been blown through everything."

Sheridan didn't notice as his fingernails made crescent-shaped cuts in his palms.

"Captain, I've gotta put my breather back on now," he coughed hard. "The air down here's almost thick enough to walk on. I'll keep you updated. Garibaldi out."

There was a continued hush in the room, then the sound level gradually rose to what it had been as the personnel returned to their interrupted tasks.

"Commander, issue a station-wide alert for all ambassadors, their staff, family and guests to report their whereabouts immediately. We need to get some idea of how many may still be trapped in there." Sheridan's intonation was clipped; precise.

"Aye, sir," Ivanova transmitted the message through her panel. "I'll also issue an order for general quarters - if this was deliberate..."

"Then we want to keep the number of people wandering the halls to a minimum," Sheridan finished the sentence for her, and curtly nodded his approval. Ivanova's face registered sympathy, but he turned away, folding his arms tightly across his chest. He had to remain calm and focused, even though his first urge was to run down to Green Sector and toss through the wreckage, searching for Delenn.

'Delenn!' his soul cried out with a terrified scream. 'Delenn!'

'Stay at your post soldier!' the trained, disciplined part of his psyche barked. 'You don't know for sure she was in there, and you have the lives of a quarter of a million beings resting on your shoulders. You can't go running off and putting all that of them in danger for just one person. '

Even if that person was the woman you loved...

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Garibaldi grimaced, trying to peer through the gradually dissipating smoke. Many of the automatic fire-suppression mechanisms had been damaged in the initial blast and they'd had to extinguish some fires the old-fashioned way with hand held units. From what they could determine all the fires were out, but it was impossible to tell for sure in the inaccessible parts of the sector. Those would have to wait. Normally they could just shut off the air supply, or even pump an inert gas through the ventilation system to starve the fire, but apart from the fact they still had people trapped in there the whole building had been wrecked and they would have had to flood the entire central core to contain it. That option was neither feasible nor possible.

He ducked under a fallen conduit, wary of the arcing discharge from the severed cables. All his security forces were turned out - some were on search parties, others maintaining increased patrols around sensitive areas. And a team were working with the forensic specialists to try and determine the most likely cause of the explosion. The Rangers on the station were also out in force amongst the search parties, desperate to try and find Delenn. So far they had had no luck in penetrating the area around the Minbari Diplomatic suite - most of the ceilings were down and the area was just so unstable that the structural engineers had advised the rescuers to avoid the area until it had been stabilized.

Since power had been cut off, everyone was forced to rely on hand-held lamps to locate survivors. Or victims. Garibaldi averted his gaze from a badly charred corpse. The fire here had been pretty intense and he couldn't even tell what species the poor bugger had belonged to.

He used his tools to remove a fused wall panel and reveal the manual release lever for the quarters he was standing before. He stood cautiously to one side, mindful of the fact that there may still be a fire raging on the other side. His hooded suit would protect him from a brief exposure, but would not be able to withstand the full brunt of a blast from a plasma stream. The door grudgingly opened a crack, but proceeded no further. No fire at least, he thought with grim relief.

Putting first his arm then his shoulder into the gap he heaved the barrier aside.

Drazi quarters, he identified, as the garish if somewhat battered decor was revealed under the light of his lamp. He swung it back and forth, trying to locate any occupants. None in the main room, but two were huddled by a still-intact window in one of the back rooms.

"Garibaldi to med-team," he said into his link. "I got two injured Drazi in Green 53." Hearing the med-team acknowledge, he bent to offer what first aid he could.

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Ivanova looked sideways at Sheridan as he patiently explained to the recalcitrant Captains of the ships outside why they had to hold orbit and would not be allowed either to dock or to go back through the jump gate. He was calmer than she had expected him to be, given the circumstances. The C&C crew were following his example, proceeding through their tasks smoothly and efficiently with a minimum of noise.

"Sir, the alert has been posted to all security stations and establishments," she announced, "and we're starting to get reports back."

Sheridan turned, his face begging the question, and she returned the negative without any words being exchanged: Delenn had not reported in as yet.

"I'm sure she'll..." Ivanova began quietly, but Sheridan cut her off.

"Keep tabs on the numbers, Commander," he said stiffly, turning to contemplate the performance of his 'bridge' crew, walling off his personal feelings behind his professional mien.

"Aye, Sir," Ivanova sighed.

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"Definitely a bomb, Chief," Julie Plowman, one of the forensic specialists announced. They handed over the information they had. "We got traces of triglyceride and loridium nitrate - both components of C-15."

"No chance of these elements being found naturally here - like in some of the foods these guys eat. Or something they use as bath salts?

"Not in these concentrations, no way," she replied. "Our best guess is that it exploded somewhere pretty close to the conduits beneath the main Ambassadorial level. That would account for the pattern of damage as well as the rapid spread of the fires."

"So. Who likes to use C-15?" Garibaldi asked rhetorically. "Just about everyone, right?"

"Yeah, well it's pretty common," a technician agreed. "Most races can get it pretty readily, but the ones that use it the most are us, the Centauri and the Narn."

"Great. Centauri, Narn, and humans. Fantastic." Heaving a breath, he tapped a channel open on his link.

"Garibaldi to C&C."

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The figure moaned and opened his eyes, completely unaware of his surroundings. For sometime he simply stared uncomprehendingly at the strobing light, occasionally blinking, but not moving. Gradually, shadowy shapes began to grow clearer and resolve themselves into parodies of recognizable objects. He frowned, knowing something was terribly wrong with what he was seeing, but unable to determine what that might be.

More time passed and self-awareness began to seep back. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the blackness from one eye, but was unable to. Lifting a heavy hand to his brow, he felt a stinging pain and a warm wetness where his fingers touched his forehead. He drew the hand down level with his good eye and squinted at the dark-hued, sticky liquid staining his fingertips. Blood. Carefully, he wiped the edge of his sleeve over his eye and was rewarded by the return of partial vision to that eye even if it was somewhat blurred At least he wasn't blinded, which had been his initial thought.

Vir sat slowly, surveying the devastation around him.

What in Mogoth's name had happened?

Debris was scattered knee-deep in the corridor - conduits, wall and ceiling panels. Everything seemed to be coated in a fine, dusty residue. He absently brushed it off the arms of his coat and immediately started to sneeze violently.

'Well, that was a mistake,' he thought as his convulsive fit subsided. Cautiously, so as not to disturb more of the dust, he patted down the rest of his body trying to assess the extent of his injuries.

Apart from the gaping wound on his head, he determined he had nothing worse than minor cuts and bruises. He searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but came up empty handed so he tore a strip from the tail of his shirt to use as a makeshift bandage.

Stiffly, he climbed to his feet, steadying himself with a hand on the wall as he swayed. There was something he should be remembering... some **one** he should be remembering. Someone he had been talking just before the world around them exploded. They had been walking back to their respective quarters when...

"Lennier."

He frantically scanned his eyes around the area. The decapitated body of a Brakiri was in plain sight. He gagged, forcing the bile in his throat back down and sharply turned his head away, the sudden movement making him dizzy. After a long moment, the dizziness receded and he forced himself to examine the area, a coldness spreading through his body as he dreaded what he might discover.

The section of corridor he was trapped in was only five or so meters long - the ceiling had collapsed at both ends, blocking it off completely with debris. He felt sick again. Oh, no! He couldn't be trapped under there! There was no way anybody could have survived that... Wait, a soft shape protruding from underneath a fallen ceiling panel caught his eye. He heaved the offending piece of material out of the way with a relieved cry to reveal the unconscious form of the Minbari diplomatic aide.

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Medlab echoed with the distraught cries of the critically injured and the dying. Lillian Hobbs used all of her professional training to block out the anguished moans and concentrate on her particular patient as she used a laser scalpel to slice open the abdomen. She flinched backwards as a vile smell permeated the air. Dammit! The impact had ruptured the Golian's equivalent of a human spleen. A nurse quickly applied suction to the khaki liquid as she probed for the exact source of the rupture.

"Stay with me," she ordered the unconscious patient. A human probably would have died from the impact alone, let alone the ruptured organ, but Golians were generally hardier and more resilient and she would probably pull through given no complications. Isolating the offending organ, she deftly repaired it and making sure as much of the leaking liquid as possible had been removed from the abdominal cavity, she resealed the incision.

"Continue with 4 cc's of drelazine per hour," she told the nurse, and looked around the chaos that had been an ordered room only half an hour before.

Aliens of many different species filled every available bed. And these were only the seriously injured - she'd had to order that those with lesser injuries be attended to in the emergency triage area in the gardens. God, she wished Franklin were here - she'd never seen a doctor more deft in his treatment of the various alien species than the CMO. A call had gone out for all doctors and medical personnel on station to report to Medlab, but Franklin hadn't shown. Even though the man was technically relieved of duty, Hobbs couldn't believe that Franklin would deliberately ignore something like this. Maybe he just hadn't seen the message yet.

A Vree on the next bed stared unblinking at the ceiling - dead. There hadn't even been time to tap him in to the bed's monitors and life support. Dr. Hobbs motioned for a couple of the Narn guards to remove the body to the morgue to make way for the next patient.

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	2. Chapter 2

"Lennier!" Vir exclaimed, clearing the rest of the debris littering the prone Minbari. "Lennier!"

At first there was no response then slowly Lennier's eyes opened. He blinked hard, obviously trying to focus on his surroundings then looked up at Vir, confusion evident on his drawn features.

"What..." he began hoarsely, but stopped as a wave of coughing struck.

"Stay still," Vir said after the fit had passed, wringing his hands. He could see Lennier's face was a ghastly shade of white even in the poor light from the discharging cable and he knew nothing about Minbari physiology so had no real way of determining just how badly injured his colleague was.

'Think Vir,' he ordered himself sternly. There must be some things common to the different races. He moved to kneel closer to Lennier's head, and shoved three fingers up near his face.

"How many fingers am I showing?" he asked.

"Dres," Lennier mumbled groggily.

"Answer in Alliance Standard: how many fingers?"

"Three."

"Good." Well, that was one of the tests he'd seen on some old earth holo. "Do you remember your name?" There was a pause, then:

"Lennier... of the Third Fane of Chu'Domo."

"And do you know who I am?" Vir was pleased - Lennier was beginning to look more alert.

"Vir Cotto - Centauri Diplomatic Attache."

Vir shifted from his knees to sit. "Well, you do not appear to have a concussion from what I can tell," he said, with more confidence than he felt.

"No. No concussion," Lennier agreed. He slowly lifted a hand to touch the swelling on his forehead and grimaced. "The Minbari skull is more dense than those of most other races."

He offered his arm to Vir to help him up, but the Centauri hesitated. Lennier's face was still unnaturally pale.

"What about other injuries? Maybe you should not be moving around."

Lennier took a slow breath, then began a self check - wiggling his fingers, running his hands carefully over his torso, moving his toes... He hissed in pain. Vir noticed the grimace, and glanced down at the leg.

"Broken?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Lennier held an arm out to the Centauri once more, who this time assisted him to sit. Together they drew Lennier's ruined robes away from his calves. The leg was twisted at an odd angle from the mid-shin, but the bone had luckily not pierced the skin.

Vir knew enough first aid to realize the limb should be immobilized somehow. He climbed slowly to his feet, groaning as his bruised and battered body complained at the movement and began poking amongst the litter for appropriate materials.

"And you?" Lennier asked, watching the other man move about slowly, bending stiffly to retrieve pieces of wreckage then discard them as being unsuitable.

"Just bruises," Vir smiled humorlessly. "A lot of bruises." He picked up some light-weight struts that were more or less the correct length, placing them next to Lennier, then pulled some cabling out of an exposed wall cavity.

"What now?" he asked his companion. "I assume immobilizing the leg is the correct thing to do for Minbari."

Lennier nodded. "Use the struts to brace the leg," he instructed, "being careful not to shift it about too much."

"I see our races to have a few things in common," Vir bent to the task.

"Bomb?" Lennier asked, seemingly indifferent to the pain now. He was calmly examining at the debris that boxed them in the small section of corridor.

"Looks like it," Vir said, carefully lining up the struts. He guessed Lennier must be using that Minbari mind-control technique he'd heard so much about to put the pain aside. It was fascinating - one minute his face had been drawn the next almost serene. Gently he twisted the first cable about the leg. He wondered if it were possible for a non-Minbari to master the technique: he wouldn't mind being able to utilize it at the moment. He knotted the third cable and sat back on his heels, pleased with his handy-work, when Lennier's face bleached of what color it had retained.

"In Valen's name!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Delenn!" Lennier turned wide, frightened eyes toward the Centauri. "Delenn was in her quarters. I must go to her - see if she is all right."

He shifted, trying to climb to his feet, but Vir pressed his hands down on the other man's shoulders. It took a surprising amount of strength to hold the injured Minbari still.

"Lennier, don't move!" Vir's voice took on an unaccustomed note of authority. "The Minbari quarters are beyond that pile." He gestured at the debris. "There's no way to get through, even if you could walk."

Lennier continued his attempt to rise for a moment, then slumped as he acknowledged the truth of the words. Delenn was beyond his reach.

Taking a deep breath, he looked around their area of confinement, spotting the body of the Brakiri Vir had attempted to cover with a loose panel.

"Killed in the initial blast," Vir said, noticing the direction of the Minbari's gaze but resolutely averting his own from the gruesome sight.

Lennier bent his head, offering a prayer in Adronato for the soul of the departed alien and praying with a fierce-edged desperation that Delenn had somehow survived.

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"We're conducting a ship-to-ship search of all the ones in the docking bay." Garibaldi's voice was tinny over the link channel. "It's slow going because we want to make sure we're not missing anything. So far we've discovered a surprising amount of contraband which we've confiscated, but no signs of any explosives."

"Very good, Chief," Sheridan acknowledged. "Keep at it. If any of the Captains give you too much trouble, you have my personal authority to throw them in the brig. That includes the Captains of any Diplomatic vessels as well."

"Sir..." Garibaldi began, but Sheridan cut him off.

"You heard me, Garibaldi," he said harshly. "We've already had one maniac running around the station setting off bombs this year - I **don't** want it to happen again. I don't care who's responsible, I just want them found as quickly as possible and stopped. This is neutral territory, dammit, and we've got enough trouble out there without this. And if that means upsetting some of the Ambassador - those that are left, at any rate - then so be it. I want every one to understand that this is **not** going to happen on my station again. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Garibaldi?" Sheridan's voice had risen in a crescendo and he found himself on the verge of shouting.

"Understood, Sir. Garibaldi out."

He could hear his Chief of Security's blatant disapproval, but knew Garibaldi would never voice it over an open channel: he'd wait until later, when they were alone to express his objections to the orders.

He cast his eyes about the room. The tech's manning the various were quiet, ostensibly going about their duties as if their CO had not almost lost it. Ivanova was staring at him, a mixture of concern for his well-being and sympathy in her eyes.

Sheridan rubbed a weary hand across his face. Had it only been an hour and a half since the explosion? It seemed like forever.

"I'm going down to med-lab," he said abruptly to Ivanova, knowing he was going to go crazy if he kept sitting here doing nothing.

"Here, you might want to review this on your way." She handed him a manifest of those accounted for - alive, injured and dead.

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From the core shuttle he could see the extent of the damage to the sector. Large chunks of the building were littering the surrounding gardens, and one side of the building was twisted and deformed. Fires had left charred and blackened scars on a number of the sections that had appeared to have survived the initial blast.

Sheridan exited the shuttle at the closest stop, catching the tube to floor level and walking through the gardens to reach the scene of devastation. Grim-faced Narn and human guards stood watch, eyeing the medium-sized crowd that had gathered behind the hastily erected barriers with open suspicion.

"I thought a general quarters alert had been ordered," he asked the guard who passed him through the cordon. He gestured at the crowd. "Why are all these people standing around?"

The man shifted uncomfortably under full riot gear, maintaining a watchful eye on the onlookers.

"It was, yes sir," he acknowledged. "But the chief's got everyone searching for the perp, and others of us are on rescue or guard duty, and there simply isn't enough of us around to enforce it."

"I see." Sheridan's eyes narrowed as he stepped up to the barrier again, much to the consternation of the guard.

"This is Captain Sheridan," he yelled to the crowd. "A General Quarters has been issued which means that all civilians are to report to their quarters and remain there until an all-clear has been given. Those of you who were quartered in Green Sector are to report to Observation Lounge Three to have your names checked off and be assigned temporary lodgings. Anybody here who does not do so at once will be taken into custody and charged with violating a State of Emergency order. Do I make myself clear?"

Sheridan took a deep breath as the crowd gaped at him in angry disbelief for a moment, then reluctantly began to disperse, muttering with discontent. He slowly let the breath hiss out between his teeth. It had felt good to shout at them - to release some of the burning anger he'd been forcing himself to contain.

"That told 'em, Captain," the Security guard said in admiration. Sheridan gave the man a tight humorless smile and continued on towards the heart of the destruction.

He passed through a staging area that had been set up as a triage unit. It looked as if the med-lab staff had called up every civilian on the station with any knowledge of alien physiology or first aid. He recognized many of those helping as Rangers, and there was also a large contingent of Minbari both amongst the wounded and amongst those rendering aid. He glanced at the faces of the wounded as he passed them, fervently hoping to see her somewhere amongst them but knowing that was unlikely. Mentally, he made a note to thank Delenn for her people's assistance next time he saw her.

When he saw her.

He swallowed a tight lump in his throat and pushed the threatening emotions away. The injured Minbari must have come from the Minbari quarter in the upper levels of the sector. Looking at the building he could see why that aliens who resided in the lower levels were prominent amongst those listed in the 'whereabouts unknown' category on the list Ivanova had given him. It could clearly be seen that the bomb had exploded somewhere around the junction of the first two levels, gutting them and causing extensive damage to at least two levels above.

People decked out with jet-packs maneuvered in and out of the upper stories, sometimes carrying injured out on stretchers.

"Captain." A short balding man whose name he didn't remember offhand had come up beside him without him noticing. "I'm Matt Duncan," he introduced himself. "In charge of the rescue operation."

"How's it going?"

"Quicker than I expected, given the amount of collateral damage," the man admitted, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "We're clearing it level by level - the major structural damage occurred on the first three levels, above that it's relatively minor so we're able to move through those areas more rapidly."

"Have you been able to get anybody out of the lower levels at all?" The Minbari suite was on the second level.

Duncan opened a floor plan of the building. "We've pulled some people out of the western side of both the second and third floors - the first floor is, as you know, unoccupied. The bomb exploded in the conduits between the levels - almost directly under the Centauri Suite." He circled an area on the plan with his finger then pointed to the most twisted part of the wreckage. "It took the brunt of the blast, but there was also major damage to the Minbari and the unoccupied Markab area. It has been completely isolated. We dare not risk cutting our way through yet because of the severe structural damage to the area: the outer face will need critical stabilization if we've got a snow-flakes chance in hell of getting in."

Sheridan's gut was twisting.

"What about cutting your way through from the inside?" His voice was gruff.

"Same problem," the man said grimly. "Those interior bulkheads are about all what's holding that entire eastern face up. If we weaken them but cutting through... Boom." His hand sketched the building falling down.

Both men stared silently at the building.

"Call me when you get it stabilized and start in," Sheridan whispered, turning away - unable to look any more.

"Yes sir."

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	3. Chapter 3

Delenn stirred slowly wondering why her body hurt so much, then decided she didn't care and began to slide back into unconsciousness. She wasn't able to reach that blissful state, however. Something was nagging at the edge of her mind. A sound? She focused on it, the unintelligible noise gradually smoothing itself into an unbroken and comprehensible flow. Her name, being repeated over and over.

"Delenn. Delenn. I know you can hear me, Delenn. I saw you move. Do not go back to sleep. Wake, Delenn. You are needed. I am summoning you, Delenn. I am calling you. You must return."

"Summoned I come," she tried to say, a lifetime of repetition bringing the phrase to her lips automatically. However, no words emerged - only an inarticulate sound that was somewhere midway between a groan and a cough. She attempted to take a deep breath, but a heavy weight seemed to press down on her chest making anything more than a shallow breath impossible.

"Yes, Delenn," the persistent voice encouraged. "That's right. Wake up. You must wake up."

She opened her eyes and everything swam before her, spiraling in a dizzying, sickening movement. Fighting nausea, she closed them tightly again, trying to recite a calming chant, but was unable. Her forehead creased. It was one of the earliest chants taught to Minbari in the Temple - used to put one's mind above physical considerations. She'd used it hundreds of times, but in Valen's name, she could not remember it!

"No, Delenn. Do not go back to sleep," the familiar voice ordered." A stinging pain erupted from her earlobe and she tried to flinch away. "Wake up, Delenn."

"I am awake," she retorted, irritated at the repetitive commands of the voice. Her words were slurred, but clear enough to be understood.

"No you're not, Delenn," the voice insisted. "Open your eyes."

"I... I cannot." She felt the pressure building and swallowed desperately. "I... I think I am going to get sick."

"Don't you dare!" The person sounded horrified at the thought and Delenn could not blame him: the idea did not appeal to her either.

"Delenn, listen to me. Hear my voice. You are not going to be sick. You are Minbari: Minbari do not allow minor physical ailments to inconvenience them."

She breathed shallowly, in time with the words and the nausea seemed to recede somewhat.

"Good. You look better," the voice encouraged. "Now,

open your eyes."

Unable to argue with the compelling voice, she steeled herself and managed to open them first a crack; then a little more. The room had mercifully stopped spinning, but everything was blurry - out of focus. She blinked furiously, trying to clear the vision.

"That's better," the voice approved. Turning her head fractionally, she found herself looking into G'Kar's red eyes. "Finally, you're awake! Thank G'Quon," the Narn exclaimed.

"In... what...?" A fragment of a scene teased the edge of her memory. A bright light. G'Kar launching them both away from the door in a flying leap. Her body covered by his armored one as the world around them had erupted into frenzied chaos.

"Explosion?" she croaked, aware her mouth was dry.

"Yes. You remember." G'Kar's face seemed to grow clearer. She saw him frown and peer closely at her. "You eyes look... strange," he noted with some concern.

"Strange?" she repeated, feeling her mind wasn't keeping up with what was going on around her.

"Different," he elaborated. "I cannot explain - they just don't look as they normally do."

She tried once again to take a deep breath but the force pressing down on her was too great. She looked down and discovered just **why** G'Kar was so close to her: he was half on top of her.

"Could you move off me, please?" she requested, surprised at his behavior. "I can not breath with you lying on my chest."

"If I could I would, believe me," he said with a distasteful grimace. "However, my legs are pinned by debris and I am quite unable to move at present."

Delenn raised her head, trying to look past G'Kar's bulk but the movement caused a return of the dizziness and nausea with increased force and she let her head fall back.

"How long was I unconscious?" She swallowed hard, trying to think of something other than how sick she felt. She would not shame herself by regurgitating the contents of her stomach over them. Counting slowly in her mind seemed to help - to give her a desperately needed focus.

"The blast also took the sense from me for a while," G'Kar replied, "but I estimate I have been awake for more than an hour. You almost awoke once before, but slipped away again."

Delenn frowned. "An hour? And nobody has come to pull us out."

G'Kar's head indicated the negative. "From the strength of the explosion the whole sector may be damaged. It may take them a while to get here."

"Or the whole station may be badly damaged," Delenn pointed out, feeling as if her mind was beginning to reassert itself. "There may have been an attack."

"And if that is the case, they will be clearing the critical areas first," G'Kar responded. "So help may be further away."

"Then we clearly must rescue ourselves," Delenn stated quietly. She twisted her head sideways as far as she could to examine the debris trapping them in place. It appeared as if a large fragment of bulkhead had fallen across G'Kar's lower back, pinning him from the hips down. She was partially underneath him, but her legs had somehow remained clear of the debris.

"If you could lift some of your weight off me, I think I might possibly be able to move out from underneath you."

G'Kar's face registered a flicker of relief as he inclined his head, then braced his massive forearms on either side of her.

"Go," he grunted, straining to hold himself off her. Slowly, at first, she wriggled backward - moving faster as she gained some mobility. As soon as she was clear, he collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily.

Delenn didn't feel like moving - the floor was suddenly remarkably comfortable,. She closed her eyes once more, feeling unconsciousness reach out to embrace her in its tender arms once more but G'Kar tapped impatiently at her foot, breaking the spell.

"No you don't," he ordered, obviously recognizing her expression. "You are not going back to sleep no matter how nice it might seem." He paused, then continued more harshly: "Come, Delenn, I do not wish to remain like this for another hour while you contemplate moving again ... Although that would be typically Minbari, wouldn't it?"

Delenn opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling - or what was left of it.

"Are those comments really necessary, G'Kar?" she asked quietly. "We may be trapped here together for some time."

"If they are what it takes to get you moving, then yes."

Sighing, she rolled over and jerked with pain as her weight pressed against her left wrist. She surreptitiously ran light fingers over it, feeling the fracture she hadn't noticed before. Favoring that arm she climbed laboriously to her feet, her head swimming at the sudden change of position. The nausea and blurred vision reasserted itself with a vengeance, almost causing her to black out. Somehow she managed to remain on her feet clutching at a shattered piece of furniture until it subsided a little. Grimacing at the vile taste in her mouth, she observed G'Kar's predicament.

A large piece of twisted metal had pinned him on his stomach from the hips down. Looking at the jagged, twisted edges Delenn was amazed neither of them had severed a limb.

"Well?" G'Kar sounded impatient. "Are you going to do something or not?"

"Patience, G'Kar," she grimaced. "I will need to find a fulcrum and a lever - the piece is too big to be simply lifted off."

"I know that. If **you** could lift it off, it would have been light enough for me to move myself even from this undignified position."

G'Kar's eyes narrowed as he watched her favor one of her arms.

"Your arm?"

"It is just a little sore," Delenn reassured him as she moved carefully through the wreckage.

G'Kar had broken enough bones - his own as well as other people's - to recognize a fractured wrist when he saw one, but he kept his peace: if Delenn wanted to make light of it that was her business. He was more concerned about her passing out again. What was the term? Concussion? He had seen her blanch when she had stood and knew only the firmest self-control had kept her on her feet.

She looked about the remains of her quarters. Seemingly every piece of furniture in the room had been destroyed. A large hole had been blown completely through the floor then up through the ceiling near the door, and the walls were buckled from the force of the blast. She sifted through the scattered debris, searching for objects that could be used. The top of her glass coffee table had been smashed, but the stone mount of the base was intact. A perfect fulcrum.

She bent to push the stone into place, but the movement was too much for her already abused system. Hand clamped tightly over her mouth, she barely managed to stagger into the kitchen before losing the contents of her stomach into the sink. Weakly she grasped the edge of the counter, fighting to stay conscious.

"Delenn? Delenn, are you all right?" G'Kar knew it was a ridiculous question, but he had to keep her talking. Her face was incredibly pale and she was breathing heavily as she clutched at a bench to keep herself upright. He had never before seen her look so fragile.

"Delenn."

"Yes, I am..." Her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped to the floor out of his line of sight.

"Delenn!"

No answer.

He uttered a few choice Narn oaths and slammed a gloved fist into the floor. Maybe he should have given her more time to recover: after all, she was not fully Minbari any more and humans were notoriously more frail than the other major races.

Resolving himself to a possibly long wait, he laid his head down on folded arms.

------------------------------

"Eighteen casualties so far," Dr. Hobbs reported, "and maybe three or so who won't make it through the night." The woman's face was etched with fatigue, and Sheridan felt sympathetic.

"We got lucky," the Captain said, leaning against a wall out of the way of the medical personnel. "If it had been a few hours later most of the residents would have been sleeping in their quarters." He shook his head. "Then we would have had many more. As it was, many were out in the Station on business of one sort or another."

The doctor excused herself as she was called away by another doctor. The medical team were doing a superb job coping, Sheridan thought looking around at the crowded but orderly room. He was mildly surprised not to see Franklin here - even in his current state Sheridan thought the doctor would have responded to the call-up of medically trained personnel. Perhaps the alert hadn't reached wherever the hell he was. Well, the patients were being attended to and the medical staff didn't really need him hanging around causing a distraction.

He slipped from the room, intending to make his way back to C&C to get the latest reports from Ivanova, but to his surprise suddenly found himself in the Zen garden without much memory as to how he'd got there.

The small area was empty, and he sank slowly down onto one of the stone benches, staring at the precisely raked sand and aesthetic arrangement of stones without actually seeing any of it. Instead a pair of green eyes seemed to fill his mind, staring back at him from the depths of his soul.

"...: Sheridan."

Somehow he was not surprised as Ambassador Kosh slid into the garden. The Vorlon wouldn't be bothered by anything as trivial as a 'general quarters' order. And who would stop a Vorlon from going exactly where he wanted.

"Kosh." He looked up at the alien, still not used to the appearance of the new Ambassador. The 'old' Kosh's encounter suit had been more... restful. The contours and colors of this Vorlon's encounter suit were harsher - more strident. Did their suits reflect the personality of the wearer? In this case it certainly seemed to.

"...: Premature grief will not save the flowers."

The human expelled a sharp breath: why had he expected the Vorlon to say anything understandable. He filed the comment away to think about later.

"Can you sense Delenn, Kosh?" The old Kosh had had some unusual abilities. Did this one too? "Is she alive?" His grey eyes held all his hope.

"...: You will know, ...: when you know." And with that the Vorlon swept away as silently as he had arrived.

Sheridan fought the urge to laugh bitterly: 'You will know when you know.' How utterly, infuriatingly and typically Vorlon.

He dropped his head into his hands, unable to support its heavy weight any longer, and sat wrapped in the bleak silence of the garden and his thoughts.

------------------------------

Waking the second time was almost as difficult as it had been the first. For a moment she simply lay completely still, afraid that if she moved or even opened her eyes she would precipitate another bout of dizziness and nausea.

"Delenn?" A voice sounded from far away.

Gkar... G'Kar was still trapped beneath the debris, waiting for her to assist him out. Berating herself for her weakness, she managed to drag herself into a sitting position, her back braced against one of the cupboards. Oh her head! She let her head rest on her knees as she allowed herself to think of John - praying he was unhurt. Knowing she had to start moving again if she wanted to see him soon.

"I hear you are awake again," G'Kar called from the main room. He didn't sound nearly as irritated with her as she had expected. In fact, he sounded almost concerned.

"Yes. I apologize for..."

"There is no need," he interrupted. "You received a blow to the head. I should have had more patience and not pushed you so hard."

Delenn opened her eyes in surprise. She had not expected him to admit any failings to her.

She took a deep breath, relieved to discover that both the dizziness and nausea had abated to ignorable levels. But the taste in her mouth was truly abominable - worse than John's flarn. With an effort, she pulled herself up, retaining her hold on the bench for support. Her legs felt so weak!

"Maybe you should take things more slowly this time," G'Kar suggested, lifting his head to observe her. He frowned. "You look worse. Perhaps you should sit for a while longer."

She opened her mouth to reply, but the wreckage shifted about them with an ominous metallic groan.

"It does not sound as if I have time to do so," she said, staggering with determination back to where she had left the stone. "How long was I unconscious this time?" The stone was heavy, but she somehow managed to push it one-handed across the floor into position.

"Perhaps another half hour." G'Kar's red eyes watched her carefully. "Do not overdo things," he warned.

She shook her head, returning to the kitchen and rapidly located what she was searching for.

She froze as the room creaked and swayed about them and the pair exchanged a loaded glance - they were obviously running out of time. Carefully she placed the two large cooking pots she'd retrieved from the kitchen cupboards on either side of the prone Narn and grasped a pole that had once been a part of her bookshelf.

"What are the pots for?" G'Kar's face was puzzled as he twisted his head to see where she had put them.

"I may not be able to lift the piece very high or for very long," she explained, laying the pole across the fulcrum. "When I do, if you could push the pots back under the sheet they will prevent it coming to rest back on you when I let it go and you may be able to crawl out." She maneuvered the shaft under the edge of the fragment.

"That is an excellent suggestion."

"Are you ready?"

G'Kar took hold of the edges of the pots awkwardly, his hands twisted behind him.

"Ready."

"On the count of three, then," she said calmly, flexing her muscles in readiness. "One... Two... Three." She heaved, leaning all her weight down on the panel which lifted a little. G'Kar used the pots as she had instructed and she relaxed, allowing the material to sink back down.

"Can you move?"

G'Kar attempted to pull himself forward, but did not have enough clearance.

"Not yet."

Delenn blinked away her dizziness. "All right, we will try again. One... Two... Three."

She managed to raise it a little higher this time, and G'Kar shoved the pots back as far as he could reach.

"That's enough," he said. Delenn let out an explosive breath and sank to the floor, spots swimming before her eyes.

"I think I can move," G'Kar grunted, bracing his arms on the floor before of him and tortuously pulling himself forward a few centimeters. He repeated the motion, gaining a bit more ground. Delenn watched silently, knowing she wasn't strong enough to be of assistance dragging out the Narn who weighed at least twice as much as she did if not more.

Finally he was clear, and he rolled awkwardly over onto his back breathing heavily.

"Well that was fun."

------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

Vir removed a piece of shrapnel from beneath him and settled back against the wall next to Lennier with a sigh. The severed cable whose sparks had initially provided them enough light to see by had eventually quieted, leaving the two sitting side-by-side in the dark, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

"So... What were you like as a child?" Vir asked, staring futilely out into the darkness as if he could actually hope to resolve images in the inky blackness.

"What?"

"A child. What were you like then?"

"Why do you wish to know?" Lennier sounded both puzzled and wary at the question. Vir drew his knees up against his chest, draping his forearms across them.

"It is something to talk about. On Centauri, when two people don't know each other very well, they usually talk about the weather. We could do that, I suppose..."

"But there is only vacuum outside," Lennier finished. "Something which is not likely to change in the near future."

"Exactly," Vir smiled. He felt Lennier's arm brush briefly up against him and the thanked the Great Maker he wasn't here alone in the dark, rapidly chilling corridor.

"Once the topic of weather has been exhausted, they usually begin boasting of their feats when they were in their prime: the battles they participated in and how they beat overwhelming odds to emerge victorious. Or their exploits amongst the members of the opposite sex. And when all else fails, their brilliance as a child - how they blackmailed the child of the most important family in their kindergarten when they were only seven. That sort of thing. Now I've been to Minbar, so I know Minbari do not behave like that, so what were you like as a child?"

There was silence for a moment.

"You have been to Minbar," Lennier finally answered, his voice sounding strangely remote, "so you have seen how my people live. I am no different."

"Yes I have seen how the Minbari live - you have a beautiful home planet. It is so..." He shrugged, unable to express his idea. "Back home, things seem so frantic. There are a great many displays and the people boast of their great appetite for living." He could hear the cynicism in his own voice. "However, after seeing the Minbari... our lives seem so empty in comparison. When I was young, I used to think that they were right - that I just didn't fit in because I was so boring. But it is as if we are desperately going through the motions of living, but somehow missing the point along the way."

Silence reigned once more.

"You believe," - he heard Lennier shift and take a sharply indrawn breath - "that there is something... lacking... in your lives."

Vir automatically spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty, before remembering they were in the dark and his companion couldn't see it.

"Maybe. Perhaps. Your people seem to have more certainty... Purpose. Even though things are going wrong everywhere in the galaxy they continue on serenely. Unaffected."

"Tradition," Lennier replied softly. "We have been traveling down this path for almost a thousand years, with various traditions governing how we live our lives. How we relate to one another. How we live. Everyone knows their place in society and what society expects of them. It is not something that can be abandoned overnight, no matter what the pressures around us are. Even if there are... problems... doubts - things will continue for a while unchanged simply because that is the way they always have."

Vir frowned. He wasn't the most adept or experience diplomat, but he could detect hints in Lennier's tone that all wasn't as well with the Minbari as it might be. When he had been on Minbar, he had viewed the culture from the perspective of an outsider, the structure of the society seemingly monolithic, but he did not have the insight or experience to recognize any cracks that were occurring in the stoic Minbari demeanor.

He felt the other man shudder against him once more.

"Are you all right?"

"Just cold."

"I know," he clasped his hands more tightly about his legs. "It is getting quite chilly. The heating as well as everything else in this sector seems to have gone."

Another violent shudder.

"I am afraid... we have a better... tolerance of heat... than cold." Lennier's voice was tightly controlled.

Vir shifted slightly, so that his side rested against the Minbari's. He could feel the continual tremors that now passed through the other man's body. Concerned, he awkwardly slid an arm around Lennier's shoulders.

The Minbari stiffened momentarily at the unexpected weight, but perceived what Vir was attempting to do and relaxed.

"I believe I am also experiencing mild shock," Lennier managed through chattering teeth.

"Can you use that meditative technique again to control it?" Vir thought of the legends how Minbari soldiers were virtually impossible to defeat as they could so completely disassociate themselves from any physical considerations that only a mortal wound could stop them.

"Yes... But the temperature is... falling so rapidly... that if I enter a trance now... I would most likely not regain consciousness. If this is my time... I would prefer to die awake... in the company of a friend."

Vir's concern blossomed into fully-fledged alarm and he squeezed his arm tighter about his companion's shoulders as if to will his strength into the injured Minbari.

"You cannot die now, Lennier," he stated, trying to keep his voice calm. "Help will be here soon."

"That is unusually... optimistic of you Vir."

Vir could almost hear the faint smile in Lennier's voice.

"Yes, well... We have been here for a while, so I'm sure that help is very close by."

"I may not... be able to wait."

"Yes you will," Vir ordered, his voice rising and fingers digging into the Minbari's cold skin. Lennier gasped softly at the additional and completely unexpected pain.

"Vir... if it is my time to go... I will... And in Valen's name... I hope I to see you... in the next life... Where no shadows fall."

"Your job isn't finished. It is not complete," Vir said harshly. "You cannot go yet." Internally, he flinched at what he was saying. He knew Minbari thoughts on duty and honor. "What about Ambassador Delenn? Delenn still needs you."

"Delenn..."

Vir could hear the catch in Lennier's voice and wondered at it.

"Delenn... Another will... take my place... in serving her... if I fall."

"No, she needs **you**, Lennier of the Third Fane of Chu'Domo. You. Not some replacement."

"No one person... is more important... than another." Lennier's breath was coming in ragged gasps, and Vir felt he was loosing ground so pulled out his final card.

"You are my friend, Lennier. I... I do not have any other friends." He paused as both men thought about the admission, then plunged on:

"I asked you about your childhood before..." he continued quietly, pulling the shivering Minbari more firmly against his side. "As a child, none of my family liked me - in fact they almost despised me, always telling me I was useless and would amount to absolutely nothing. I had a lot of cousins, and they used to echo what the adults said, teasing me. Taunting me. One day..." he swallowed hard, hearing the catch in his voice. "One day I was playing a game with them. All but one would go and hide and the object was for that person to find everyone." He closed his eyes with remembered pain. "I hid in the cellar, thinking they would never find me there. I was right: they didn't. But not because it was such a clever hiding place but because they were not looking for me. They had only pretended to play the game. As soon as I went off to hide, the rest of them left to do something else. They just wanted to get rid of me so they did not have to put up with 'Vir the Useless.'"

Lennier put his own discomfort and physical pain aside for a moment, concentrating instead on the pain of his friend.

"Somebody locked the door and I got trapped down there. For more than a day." Vir's arm involuntarily tightened his arm about Lennier's shoulders. "And no one noticed. No one noticed that Vir was no longer underfoot to make fun of or kick around.

"It was dark... So dark. And cold. Six-legged crawlers brushing over me... over my skin... getting inside my clothes... in my hair... And I imagined a Na'ka'leen feeder was lurking there somewhere... Waiting until I slept to erase my mind."

Vir's voice was taking on an edge of panic as he relived the moment, and Lennier hesitantly reached out and found the man's other arm, sliding his fingers down the coat material until he found Vir's hand.

Vir felt Lennier's hand brush his arm uncertainly then grip his hand offering comfort. He took a deep breath, suddenly reminded by the cold hand within his own that he wasn't alone in the dark.

"Since then, I have always been utterly terrified of the dark," his tone lighter but betraying his anxiety. "So if you don't stay with me..."

"I understand, my friend," Lennier said softly, ashamed that he had been so selfish as to not consider his friend's needs. "And I promise you I will do everything in Valen's name to stay here with you."

------------------------------

"Centauri shuttle Melori. Please hold you current position," Corwin repeated for the third time.

"The Melori is still moving towards the jump gate," a technician reported.

"Melori you are ordered to hold position," Ivanova put in, taking over the comm system.

The answer she received from the shuttle's captain was full of expletives telling her exactly what she could do with her orders.

She ground her teeth. Where the hell did the Captain think he could go? The jump gate had been programmed to reject the ID's of all the ships hovering outside and the small Centauri shuttle certainly wasn't equipped to open its own jump point.

More abuse was screamed over the channel as the Captain discovered for himself he couldn't leave. Ivanova smiled maliciously.

"Launch a couple of Starfuries to bring the ship in," she told Corwin. "Have them escort it to bay six. Let's see why he's so eager to leave."

"Launching Zeta Two and Three, aye," Corwin confirmed.

"Zeta Two and Three - please bring the Melori in," Ivanova said pleasantly over the open channel so the Centauri could hear as well. "If it resists, you are authorized to shoot to disable, then tow it in."

"You can't do that!" the Captain shouted.

"You are in Babylon 5 space," Ivanova smiled, "and as we have jurisdiction here **and** we're in a state of emergency, I can do just about anything I damn well want."

"Targeting the Melori's propulsion systems," the pilot of Zeta two said with perfect timing and in just the right tone.

"So, what's it going to be Captain Kossou. Are you going to dock voluntarily, or do we have to reel you in?"

More expletives.

"Very well, if that is your answer. Starfuries, prepare to open fire."

"Aye, Commander."

The order hung in the air for a moment, then the shuttle turned.

"Commander, Melori is moving into docking lane," Corwin reported.

"I thought he'd see it my way, somehow," Ivanova said smugly, then tapped another comm channel open.

"Ivanova to Garibaldi. We're bringing someone in who you might just like to have a chat with."

------------------------------

Why hadn't he thought of that before? Vir suddenly stiffened as an idea struck. He detached hand from Lennier's and awkwardly balanced on his knees.

"I'll be right back," he muttered.

"Vir?"

"My head must be full of stones," he continued, carefully holding his hands out before him as he crawled across the floor. "Remind me later how stupid I am later, Lennier."

"Vir?" Lennier repeated, sounding concerned at his rambling.

Vir cast his hands about - where was it again? bang

"Oww!!" He shook the hand he had just knocked into some unseen debris. More slowly, he reached out for it again, running his hands over it and determining it was the panel he'd been searching for.

"Vir," Lennier said patiently, "I think you should come back and sit down next to me. Remember, you have a head wound and have lost blood."

"I've got an idea on how to keep your warm." Vir threw the metal sheet aside. "That Brakiri who died. I'll pull the clothes off her and we can..."

"No!" Lennier interrupted sharply.

"Lennier?"

"No. You cannot." Lennier sounded... panicked?

"What is the matter." He swiveled to face in the direction where Lennier was sitting.

"I can not wear the clothes of a dead person. It is forbidden."

"Not even if it will save your life?" For Centauri, once a person was dead their belongings were fair game.

"No. It offers disrespect to those have departed."

Vir dropped his face in his hands: it had been such a good solution.

"Lennier, we have been here for hours. We may remain so for a while..."

"Vir, I cannot compromise my beliefs." Lennier's voice indicated he would tolerate no more discussion on the matter.

Vir resisted the urge to let out a sigh of exasperation - he did respect the beliefs of other cultures, but at the expense of his friend's life? Then another idea manifested itself, and his hands moved to the catches of his own robes before the thought had even crystallized fully.

"All right. But you have no objection to wearing the clothes of one who is still alive, do you?"

"What do you... Vir, no I cannot allow you to..."

"We have no cultural prohibitions about this," he overrode Lennier, shrugging out of his coat then waistcoat, leaving him shivering in shirt sleeves. "So you can wear my clothes and I'll take the ones from the Brakiri.

"But..."

He fumbled in the dark, but eventually managed to tuck his coat over Lennier's chest and drape his waistcoat carefully over the man's legs.

Vir shuddered slightly, not just from the cold, as he removed the clothes from the corpse. It was true the Centauri had no cultural taboos against it but it didn't make him feel any better about what he was doing. He cringed as he wrapped the oddly-smelling, ill-fitting jacket about him. His skin shrank away from contact with the still-damp blood-soaked material and he had to concentrate hard to keep the contents of his stomach from returning the way they had come and compounding the problem.

"Lennier?"

"Yes Vir." The Minbari sounded subdued, but his teeth were no longer chattering. Good.

"I think we should shift you away from the wall so I can sit behind you and help keep you warm."

Silence, then:

"Very well."

Vir blindly reached out, touching the Minbari's arm, then locating his hips.

"I am going to shift you forward a little as carefully as possible. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

He tried to do it as smoothly as possible, but was still aware of the hiss of pain that escaped Lennier's lips.

"Sorry."

He maneuvered himself into the space they'd created, arranging his legs one on either side of Lennier. Gingerly he wrapped his hands underneath the makeshift blanket and around the other man's middle. Sensing no protest, he gently urged the Minbari to lie back against him.

Lennier remained rigid for many long minutes, the slowly relaxed into the embrace, lulled by the warmth and protection offered by his friend.

------------------------------

The link on his wrist beeped and Sheridan slapped the channel open instantaneously.

"Sheridan. Talk to me."

"We've found the ship that transported the 'cargo' on board." It was Garibaldi. "We're bringing the Captain in right now."

"I'll meet you in Security. I'm on my way." The Captain left the garden at a run. Finally **something** had happened.

------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

The emergency med-kit she kept on hand was in her hygiene chamber which was now a twisted wreck, so Delenn bound her injured wrist with a spare undertunic she had retrieved from the ruins of her bedroom. Hunting further beneath wreckage, she located some ceremonial candles and a lighter. There was a small amount of light seeping through the twisted wreckage of the outer wall of her quarters but the dim illumination was barely enough to see by. The candle sputtered, then caught casting a warm golden light about her.

In the main room, G'Kar was standing well back from the unstable looking jumble that had once been the outer wall, studying the hole the explosion had torn first through the floor then the ceiling. The whole area creaked and groaned alarmingly. She wondered again at the miracle of their survival.

"I think I heard the sound of jet packs out there," G'Kar said, turning awkwardly towards her. Delenn suspected that the damage to his hip went beyond 'some negligible bruising' as he had described it, but she had not pressed him on the matter. No matter what his injury, he still had his pride and he would not admit his weakness to her unless absolutely necessary.

"I know. I heard you call out to them." Abusing them was more accurate she thought, as she pressed one of the candles into his hand. When the people had not responded to his repeated calls for assistance he had resorted to swearing at them in Narn. She suspected he didn't know she understood enough Narn to know approximately what he was saying otherwise he wouldn't have let himself go like that. She lifted her candle, adding its light to his and surveyed the devastation.

"Up or down?" she asked, craning her head to peer up through the hole to the quarters above.

"I beg your pardon?" G'Kar sounded confused.

"We cannot stay here, G'Kar - it sounds as if the whole section of the building will fall away soon. And as the entrance to my quarters is blocked..."

"We have the choice of trying to climb up or go down through the hole to find a way out," G'Kar completed. He awkwardly tapped at the buckled floor panel surrounding the hole with his foot.

"The explosion obviously originated somewhere below us, so logic dictates that the upper levels should be less damaged and egress may be possible." He gradually began pressing his weight onto the panel, withdrawing the foot quickly as it began to sag with a sharp metallic protest. "Somehow, I do not think this will support my weight," he remarked. "But it may hold yours." He looked down at the diminutive woman at his side. "You could always send in... oh what is that quaint human expression? Ah yes. You could always send in the cavalry when

you get out."

Delenn shook her head decisively. "No. We go together, or not at all."

"Delenn..."

"No."

"What... Are you, Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation, afraid of being in the dark by yourself," he taunted lightly.

She looked at him steadily. "My fears are not the problem, G'Kar. If we do not leave here together there is a very good chance there will be no rescue." The wreckage behind her creaked as if to punctuate her statement.

He might not completely trust her, but he had to admit she had spirit.

"Very well," he agreed grudgingly, "Since I know from vast experience in the Council Chambers that arguing will not change your mind." He peered at the ceiling - even with a large hole in it, it looked sturdier than the floor. The only problem was that they couldn't stand underneath the hole to climb through.

"I think I could lift you up there," he mused, "But there is no way I could get close enough to climb out: the floor will collapse."

"Could you climb a rope?" Delenn asked.

"Of course I can climb a rope." G'Kar was a trifle offended at the question - he wasn't incompetent. All Narn could climb ropes - it had been a standard tactic employed when invading Centauri houses during the last occupation. "But do you happen to have a rope lying about your quarters."

"No. But we could probably make one." She moved into the sleeping chamber and returned with several sheets.

G'Kar took one, snapping it between his hands to test its strength.

"Very well," he agreed. "But if this does not work and I fall on my rear end, I will hold you responsible Delenn."

"Of course," she agreed, her eyes smiling.

------------------------------

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Centauri sneered, his arms folded smugly across his chest, his body language screaming contempt. Garibaldi ground his teeth in frustration, wanting to pound the arrogant look of the little shit's face. But that would only play into the guy's hands.

"Look, buddy. We've found the residue of the explosive in your ship. Did you really think you could get away with it?"

The man tossed his head. "Must have been planted. Probably by one of your own security guards. We know how much you Narn lovers hate us."

The Narn guard at the door stood watch impassively, ignoring the provocation, and Garibaldi silently gave thanks for the alien's restraint: one less thing to worry about.

"What we need from you is who planted the bomb, where they are now and who the intended target was."

"You've got the wrong person **human**," the Centauri grinned. Garibaldi resisted the urge to swear. They had a bomber running loose on the station who may strike again anywhere without warning, and this guy wanted to play. He removed his hands from the table and backed off a little as the suspect's eyes flicked once more to the figure leaning against the wall watching the proceedings silently.

Sheridan had been in the interrogation room from the

start, watching the questioning without comment. Garibaldi had been worried that the Captain would tear the Centauri limb-from-limb. Hell, that's what he felt like doing himself. But John had merely stood to one side. Watching. Staring. All without making a sound. It was beginning to get on his nerves, actually.

The intensity of the Captain's stare was obviously beginning to affect the Centauri Captain as well.

"Is he some sorta decoration?" He asked Garibaldi, nodding derisively at Sheridan.

The Captain maintained the chilling eye contact and Michael was glad he wasn't in the suspect's position.

"Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Yes, Kossou, he does," Garibaldi replied with exaggerated patience, placing his hands on either side of the man and leaning in close. "But you see some shit-for-brains is running around his station, setting off bombs." Garibaldi leaned closer, whispering confidentially in his ear. "Between you and me - I think he's **extremely** pissed off."

"Garibaldi." Sheridan's voice interrupted. Garibaldi pulled back, turning to face the approaching man.

"He's right."

Michael stared at the Captain, wondering if the stress had got to the man. Right? Right about...?

"He doesn't know anything about the bomb - he was just a convenience. A pack horse, if you like, to bring the perpetrator and explosives on board." Sheridan was the model of an Earth Alliance trained officer: standing erect with precise military bearing; hands hanging loosely by his sides; voice calm and authoritative.

"See, even pretty boy there believes me," the Centauri remarked smugly to Garibaldi, while the Security Chief wondered what the hell the Captain was playing at. This fellow was as guilty as anything: Garibaldi could **smell** it.

"So you can space him now." The way Sheridan said it, as calmly and matter-of-factly as ordering a drink, made Garibaldi's blood run cold.

Kossou's jaw dropped, working ineffectively to get some words out as Sheridan turned to leave.

"Wait!" he cried shrilly. "You can't do that!"

"Actually, I can," Sheridan said, hitting the exit button.

"But Earth Alliance has laws!" The Centauri spluttered.

"How convenient for you to remember that now," Garibaldi said sotto voce.

Sheridan halted, then walked back across the room to stand in front of the prisoner.

"In case you have forgotten, Captain Kossou, Babylon 5 has seceded from the Earth Alliance." His tone was still calm, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "I am the military Governor of this city in space, and as such I am sole judge, jury and executioner - especially where crimes are committed against the neutral state of Babylon 5."

"But I didn't do it!" The Centauri yelled, spittle flecking his lips.

"None the less, you participated in the conspiracy to transport hazardous materials into the Babylon 5 Station, and bring on board a person or persons for the express purpose of committing an act of terrorism against the Babylon 5 Station. For that crime, I am sentencing you to death by spacing. Sentence to be carried out immediately." Ice-cold grey eyes met Garibaldi's blue. "I'll be in my office when you have finished chief."

"Wait!" the Centauri, his eyes wide with panic screamed. "Wait! I know who did it. Who is responsible!"

"I find that highly unlikely," Sheridan responded, only half-turning. "After all, you were just a convenience. I doubt that anybody who had planned this set-up would let the delivery-boy in on the details. In the event of this very situation occurring."

"They didn't - they thought I was dead drunk on Brivarre and didn't know what they were saying." The Centauri spoke quickly, almost stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out. He was shaking, and Garibaldi could smell the acrid, pungent odor of sweat.

"And that was?" Garibaldi leant in for the kill.

"A... a Centauri Lord - Lord Refa. He wanted to remove Ambassador Mollari who he saw as being a threat to his position in the new order back home. By bombing the whole complex, he predicted that you would blame the incident on one of your own anti-alien factions."

"And the bomber himself?" Garibaldi's eyes were bright with anticipation. "Who is he? Where's he hiding out?"

"It was just some human mercenary Refa hired," the Centauri whined. "He made a mistake - the bomb was to be placed in the conduits running beneath the Centauri Mission but not supposed to detonate until several hours after my ship departed. He may have been killed in the premature blast."

"Or he may have deliberately set the bomb to go off early, and caught a transport out of here, knowing we'd catch you." Garibaldi suggested.

The Centauri paled. "No!" he denied.

"Well, why not?" Garibaldi continued. "Hunting for the ship that carried the bomb is something he must have known we'd do - perhaps giving him enough time to go into hiding if he's still on board, while you took the fall for the act."

The man was actually shaking now.

"Very good, Mr. Kossou," Sheridan purred in a velvety voice. "You have managed to keep yourself inside the station for the moment." He emphasized the 'moment'. "Now, you are going to tell Mr. Garibaldi **everything** you remember about Lord Refa and the mercenary. Be sure not to leave anything out - no matter how insignificant it might seem."

With that Sheridan stepped from the room, the door closing behind him with an ominous clang.

"Well, you heard the Captain," Garibaldi said in a viciously cheerful tone, pulling up a chair and straddling it. "So talk."

------------------------------

G'Kar heaved, and watched as Delenn's legs disappeared from view into the hole above. If he had not been in so much discomfort, he might have enjoyed the view up the Minbari Ambassador's robes. He had always had an unwholesome attraction for human women, much to the disgust of his peers. But right now he was too exhausted to care about such things.

A dim light appeared above as she re-lit her candle, and he could hear her moving about. Her wrist had given her difficulties in pulling herself up, but she had managed without complaint and he had to admire her determination.

The light faded as she explored further away from the opening.

Deciding he wasn't being of much help standing around like a pouchling waiting for its parents to return, he limped off to explore the devastated quarters to see if he could find anything to assist in their escape.

------------------------------

Zack sprawled inelegantly on the grass outside green sector. Beside him, head on his knees, was the enigmatic Ranger Marcus. The two of them had spent hours on the search and rescue team, crawling under debris and cutting through walls to rescue the injured. And to bring out the dead. Zack looked soberly at the shrouded corpses laid neatly side-by-side in the garden. There weren't as many as there could have been, thank God, but there were still too damn many.

He looked sideways at his companion. The younger man had seemed indefatigable as he had cut through bulkhead after bulkhead, but Zack could see that he was obviously reaching the end of his endurance. Marcus and his fellow Rangers had tried desperately to find a way into the major Ambassadorial wing. But it was like walking around on eggshells - it was so unstable that the engineers, afraid that the slightest noise might bring it down, had ordered everyone to keep clear. Zack had had to physically manhandle Marcus from the building, so distraught had the man been over not being able to reach Entil'Zha.

Well at least the structural engineers and their teams had almost finished stabilizing the facade enough to go in that way...

Zack frowned as a familiar and unexpected figure strode across the lawn to stand staring at the wreckage.

"Great Maker!" he exclaimed in his characteristic rolling tones. "What has happened?"

----------------------------


	6. Chapter 6

"I was raised in the Temple."

It was the first thing either of them had said in a long while, and it took Vir a moment to remember the question he had asked. He was pleasantly warm now, with another body snuggled against his and had been on the verge of falling asleep despite his general discomfort.

"What was it like?" he prompted, trying to focus on the words to stave off sleep.

The back of Lennier's head rested comfortably on his shoulder and their hands were joined companionably under the makeshift blanket. Both men had felt awkward about the contact at first, but necessity had won out.

"It was... it was how I grew up," Lennier said. "I do not have anything to compare it with, so your question..."

"Well, why were you there?" Vir expanded, closing his eyes. "What did you do?"

My parents were all of the Religious Caste. My mother taught Mathematics at advanced level to the senior acolytes. My Father was an archeobiologist, studying the earliest forms of life that had developed on Minbar. My other father - my parent's husband - was a composer of sacred songs. The four of us were very happy together." Vir could feel Lennier smile.

"Londo cannot understand Minbari marital arrangements," Vir confided. "He is perfectly prepared to accept a man having more than one wife - or at least he used to - but he does not like the thought of mixed groups of males and females forming marriages."

"The groups are usually smaller than four," Lennier defined. "Most frequently only two or three. But as long as they love each other, what does it matter how many participate?"

"Is it true marriages only last twelve years?" Vir had been curious to discover this fact while stationed on Minbar, but had not been able to ask in case he offended someone.

"Not exactly." Lennier paused as one of the debris piles blocking the corridor shifted with a torturous moan. Vir held his breath, expecting the structure to collapse, but the noise subsided as the wreckage settled.

"Contracts are made for twelve years to ensure that a child be raised to a certain level with their parents. Most couples renew those vows at the end of that period - it is a joyful ceremony that one's whole family participates in. But people grow and change over time, and the contract allows a clean parting to be achieved if needed."

"There is no divorce?"

Vir felt Lennier's hands twitch, but he remained relaxed.

"Only under exceptional circumstances - for instance if a partner is called to serve in a cloistered order. Or feels they have a calling. Then the bonds may be dissolved by a High Priest with Government approval."

The Centauri wondered why Lennier had reacted when he had asked about divorce, but put the problem away to be investigated another time.

"So... What did you do?"

"Studied. Prayed. Helped my family. I was an average Minbari child of the Religious Caste - there was nothing different about me. When... when I was almost twelve, the war with Earth began..." The Minbari lifted his head from where it had rested.

"You lost people you loved?" Vir asked perceptively.

"Yes... Family."

"It must have been hard for you to come here, then."

"At first," Lennier admitted frankly, "but I was here to serve Delenn - my feelings and wishes are secondary to hers. Now, I am pleased to count many humans amongst my friends. And serving Delenn... It is... the greatest honor. I place nothing else in my life more highly than that."

And he loves her, Vir realized. Without the distraction of vision he seemed able to hear more behind the words than he usually did. He repressed the urge to sigh, feeling a trifle envious of the unconditional feelings Lennier harbored for Delenn. Nobody had ever felt that way about him.

Then again, why would they want to?

------------------------------

"Sheridan," the Captain answered the link summons.

"Ivanova here, Captain. They've found Londo."

"I understand," Sheridan sighed. "Have his body taken..."

"No. No. He's still alive and perfectly all right."

Sheridan stared at the link incredulously. "In there?" he had seen the twisted wreck and thought that nobody could possibly have survived in there. If Londo was all right, that meant Delenn...

"Apparently he wasn't in the area," Ivanova continued and Sheridan felt his hopes plummet again. "He says he was being 'entertained'," Ivanova said the word as if there were a bad taste in her mouth, "at some sleazy dance club and claims he never heard the summons to report in."

"Where is he now?"

"Outside green sector."

"Have some security personnel escort him to Garibaldi's office on the double."

"Understood, Captain. Ivanova out."

"Well, that's typical Londo for you," Garibaldi grimaced. He watched as the Captain flowed from the chair to pace up and down the small security office.

"Have your people finished checking the ships hanging around out there?" He waved an arm vaguely.

"Yeah." Garibaldi leaned back in the chair. "Far as we can tell they're clean. No hazmat. No human's matching our friend's," he hiked his thumb in the direction of the picture of the Centauri captain on the monitor, "description of the bomber."

Sheridan turned, his grey eyes locking with Garibaldi's blue.

"Do you believe his story, Michael?"

The security chief sighed. "Yeah... I do now. At least, the second story he told. I think you frightened him too badly with your 'let's space him' bluff for him to even be able to think of a coherent lie. Hell, you had **me** scared."

Sheridan looked pale, and turned away, staring at nothing as he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"I don't... I wasn't bluffing. I was almost prepared to space the guy," he finally whispered. "I just... What will I do if she's gone, Michael?"

Garibaldi rose from his chair, moving around the desk to stand beside his C.O. The horror at what he'd wanted to do mixed with the fear he'd been suppressing for hours mingled plainly in his eyes. Michael laid a sympathetic hand on the other man's shoulder, not offering any empty platitudes that Delenn might still be found alive, because in his heart he believed there was no way that the Minbari Ambassador could possibly have survived the explosion.

------------------------------

Lying on her stomach, Delenn pushed her head carefully past the jagged edges of the hole.

"G'Kar."

He wasn't immediately visible, and she shook her head to clear the long dark hair from her eyes. It really could be quite a 'pain in the butt' at times.

"G'Kar."

"Yes." G'Kar limped from her sleeping chamber, leaning heavily on a pole to help him walk and carrying a sack.

"I may have found a way out," she called. "But at any rate, the area up here looks less on the verge of collapse."

"Very well." G'Kar bent awkwardly and tied one end of their improvised rope to his sack. She reached her hand down and he threw the other end up to her. It took several attempts, but she eventually managed to catch it one-handed.

"Pull that up first, then throw the end back down," he instructed. She quickly pulled the sack up, and detached it, pushing it well back from the edge.

"Pass me the rod," she called. "There is nothing heavy enough up here to tie the rope to. If I brace the pole across the opening we can use that."

G'Kar did as requested, waiting patiently as she slowly completed the task.

After a few moments, her head ducked back down, her eyes catching his.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Judging the distance to where he was standing, she pursed her lips and cast the rope in the correct direction. G'Kar caught it easily, and tugged on it a few times.

"I hope you have tied your knots tightly up there," he commented, "otherwise I imagine this will be a very short trip indeed."

"Of course," Delenn replied, withdrawing her head from the floor and moving to hold the pole still.

G'Kar took a deep breath then swung out over the hole. The rope held, but his confidence in their makeshift solution was not such that he would wish to hang around all day. He looked up through the hole as he swayed back and forth, and saw Delenn lying on her stomach bracing the support, her face taut with the strain.

Laboriously, hand over hand, he dragged himself up to the opening above, pausing every few strokes to take a deep breath before continuing. First one hand, then the other found the bracing bar, and he hung there a moment to gather his strength for the final assault. This part was the most difficult - he had to maneuver between the jagged edges of the hole while pulling himself up. His fingers dug into the edge of the hole, finding purchase on the rough surface, and he raised his body slowly, planting first one fore-arm over the edge, then the other. Delenn held his arm, offering what support she could. Legs kicking futilely in mid air, he heaved again - this time managing to get his chest over the edge. It was lucky he was armored, he mused as he caught his breath and concentrated all of his flagging energy on one last heave; otherwise his chest would have been torn by the razor sharp edges. He let loose a huge roar, as he pulled himself to safety, half sprawling over Delenn as she pulled him forward.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the sound of him desperately gulping air into his lungs: he wasn't as young as he was last time he'd done this, he thought with a moan, rolling off the woman's legs to lay on his back.

"We..." he wheezed between gasps, "We really must do this again sometime Delenn."

------------------------------

"Captain Sheridan, I object to your tone!" Ambassador Mollari of the Centauri Republic sat uncomfortably on a chair in the Security office, the humans standing one on either side of him, their expressions furious. "I heard no summons to report in, as I have already told you." He turned to Garibaldi. "Perhaps you should check the intercom system in 'The Dark Star,'" he offered helpfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very late and..."

"Sit down, Londo," Garibaldi barked before Sheridan had the chance.

"Well, really Mr. Garibaldi, I would expect better manners from you of all people."

"Didn't you hear a word the Captain said?" Michael asked. "Some nutter just bombed an entire **sector** to get to you, and we don't know if he's still running around out there."

"So what are you suggesting, Mr. Garibaldi? That I stay here, in protective custody until you and your knights in sparkling armor have rounded him up and brought him to justice?"

Garibaldi and Sheridan just stared at the Ambassador, whose smug expression slipped under their scrutiny.

"You **cannot** be serious. Here?" His tone made it clear that the Security Section was only one step above sharing quarters with a Pak'ma'ra. He looked from officer to officer, who resolutely returned his stare. "And how long is this... incarceration going to last?"

"Oh just until we're sure the bomber **was** killed in the blast, as our talkative Captain in there claimed," Garibaldi told him cheerfully.

"And what of Vir? I will need my assistant..."

"I'm sorry, Ambassador Mollari," Sheridan cut in formally, "but we have no location on your Attache's whereabouts as present. The Centauri Diplomatic quarters are still inaccessible. However, the guest quarters on the upper floors have been cleared, and we will shortly be able to present you with a list of the Centauri injured and deceased so you can inform your Government." Londo was silent for a moment.

"Well, if you don't mind, I think I would like to retire now," Londo said, rising to his feet. "It has been a very trying day for me."

Sheridan and Garibaldi exchanged a look of sheer disbelief. Just how egocentric was the man?

"This way, Ambassador," Garibaldi said, almost visibly gritting his teeth. "There is a nice holding cell where we're going to put you for the night."

"I hope it has a comfortable bed..." Londo's voice faded away, as Garibaldi led him in the direction of the cells.

------------------------------


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting beside G'Kar, Delenn shivered in the chill air as she waited for him to recover his breath. She hadn't felt that cold when she was moving about, but with inactivity she was becoming aware of just how cold it was in the room. And how much she hurt. It would be so easy just to...

"Delenn!"

Her eyes jerked open, to see G'Kar sitting beside her, his red eyes regarding her with concern.

"Are you well?"

Was she well? She had a broken wrist, a probable concussion, tender ribs and was bruised from head to foot. She opened her mouth to reassure him, but was racked by a violent shudder as her body tried to warm itself.

"We should keep moving," she managed after a moment. "We will be safer when we reach a less damaged part of the

building." She moved to rise, but a large hand on her thigh held her in place.

"Wait." G'Kar retrieved the sack he'd had her pull up, and dug inside it. After a moment he tossed a bundle of dark fabric into her lap.

Delenn fingered the material - even in the dark she would know what it was: the robe of a Satai. G'Kar must have rifled through her closet to find it.

She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped the familiar symbol of her former office about her, enjoying the warmth. G'Kar regarded her silently. He had obviously known about the problem Minbari had with cooler temperatures. Even as a halfling, she found the cold much more difficult to endure than heat.

"You know quite a lot about my people, don't you?"

He climbed laboriously to his feet, wincing as his hip supported his weight.

"Well, after a certain Minbari almost strangled me during an early encounter, I thought it... prudent to know all I could." He flicked his eyes at her. "There is also some water in there, if you require it."

"Thank you," she said softly, retrieving the bottle. She took a few small sips, swirling the tepid fluid about her mouth before swallowing, then offered the bottle to her companion.

He shook his head. "It seems I know more about your people than you do about mine," he commented.

"Oh?" It was true that her contact with Narns had been limited before her appointment to Babylon 5, but she had acquired a great deal of information about them since then. She frowned. Had the blow to her head caused her to forget some point about Narn etiquette or physiology?

"Narn generally don't drink water. Not unless absolutely necessary," he explained, leaning heavily on the metal bar he had retrieved and looking down at her. "It is absorbed through our outer membrane instead, which is why the air in our quarters is always kept moist."

Delenn nodded, climbing slowly to her feet. She had known that, but had forgotten until he had mentioned the fact. She touched the swelling on her head - the blow must have affected her memory.

She swayed a little and G'Kar wrapped a large arm around her waist for support.

The lame leading the confused, she thought, inappropriate laughter beginning to well inside.

G'Kar looked down at her but did not voice the concern she could feel in his gaze, instead spoke softly:

"Now, my dear Ambassador, why don't we 'get the hell out of here'?"

------------------------------

As soon as the door swished closed behind Garibaldi, Londo's bored and disaffected expression fell away. Refa! That... that piece of Pak'ma'ra offal!! That... He couldn't think of an analogy that more fully expressed his anger and disgust. Refa!

He pulled his cloak from his shoulders, screwed it into a ball and hurled it with considerable force onto the small cot the humans had an effrontery to call a 'bed.' Refa must have been getting very desperate. His attempts to shame Londo in the eyes of the royal court had failed and now he was degrading himself to the level of a human thug. Had the artistry of the Old Republic assassinations completely vanished?

He paced up and down the length of the small room, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He was a reasonable man... But this... This went far beyond reasonable. Way beyond that point. Insane was a word he had no problem applying to the situation. Yes, insane. Refa's greedy power-grabbing had exploded out of control in every direction.

"Exploding!" he snorted out loud. Couldn't the man have thought of a more original or creative way to do away with a political hindrance? Great Maker, a bomb! How quaint and inefficient. Bombs were just too messy and the chances of the intended target escaping just too great. Refa's brain must have atrophied with his dizzying rise to power. A bomb.

Londo flopped down onto the bed, wincing as his rear end registered just how thin the mattress was. They expected him to sleep on this? A pad so thin that his body would not be able to register its presence at all? No wonder humans were so bad-tempered in the mornings if they all slept in this manner. Perhaps it would be worth his while to invest in some luxuriant Centauri beds and present them to certain individuals as a gift... The amount of grief it would save him in negotiations and Council chambers would be well worth the expense...

He sighed, laying back and crossing his hands over his stomach,

his momentary burst of levity fading. Refa was becoming a problem. Becoming? He had been a problem for a while, actually, but it was a problem that was now going to have to be dealt with. Permanently. He had had his uses, but that time was now long past. Londo realized his error - he should have finished it completely after he learned about Adira... that had been an error in judgment.

It was time Refa was eliminated - not only as a matter of personal revenge, but to allow cooler heads to prevail in the struggle. Closing his eyes, Londo contemplated how to effect just a solution to his little problem. There was still the other half of the poison he could use... but in the end it would have to be something... fitting. A plot he would be proud to claim as his own in the unlikely event of the truth ever emerging. Something creative. Removing Refa in a brilliant masterstroke that would inform the Centaurum that Londo Mollari was not a person to be trifled with.

------------------------------

"Sheridan."

"Captain, we've just got a message from the rescue coordinator, Duncan. He says they're ready to proceed with the next phase," Ivanova said over the link.

"Understood, Commander. We're in the core shuttle now. Tell him I'll be there shortly. Sheridan out."

John stood next to Garibaldi, staring silently at the wreckage far below, too afraid to hope.

------------------------------

In a pitch black corridor, a Centauri and a Minbari wrapped about each other for warmth and comfort lay in an exhausted slumber.

------------------------------

"Captain," Duncan greeted Sheridan and nodded at Garibaldi. "Team One have begun cutting in." He pointed up to where a group of people in hover packs were working. "Team Two is standing by." The second team were on the ground, ready to lift off. "Team Three entered the building via the western face, ready to cut their way in there."

Sheridan nodded silently, watching the sparks fly from the cutting equipment high above.

------------------------------

"How far have we come?" G'Kar groaned, letting his head rest on his arms for a moment.

"I suspect we are now on Green Four," Delenn replied, wriggling around another obstruction. She turned her head to call back:

"I believe I am almost through - there seems to be an open space ahead of me."

"The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel," G'Kar muttered. Being larger presented a significant disadvantage to G'Kar as far as worming his way through the gaps in debris piles was concerned. His armor scraped on the twisted metal, as he tried to crawl through spaces no male adult Narn in their right mind should attempt to pass through, and Delenn had already had to help pull him free several times after he had become stuck.

A sharp cry sounded ahead.

"Delenn?"

No answer.

"Delenn??"

G'Kar tried to move forward faster, but found himself caught again. Cursing, he twisted, but was unable to move.

"I am... all right," he heard her call. "Something just fell on me."

Well, she didn't **sound** all right, G'Kar thought.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Well even if she wasn't, she wasn't going to admit it to him, was she? G'Kar asked himself. Not only Minbari stubbornness but that special brand of female stubbornness that drove him to distraction at times. He let himself relax, trying to ease his way through, but it was impossible: he was stuck. Again.

"Can you still move?"

"Yes." The tone reflected her pain, but the answer was sure.

"Good. I am afraid I require your assistance again."

------------------------------

Sheridan never knew later how long it had been - it may have only been five minutes, it could have been an hour, when:

"Stop!" A voice called over the comm channel.

"Back up! Back up now!"

The voices began to overlap.

"Shit!"

"It's gonna go!"

"Back away!"

"Everybody out!"

Suited figures spun and whirled away from the twisted building face...

...A trembling woke Lennier and Vir. Powder filled the air, choking them, and debris rained down. Holding each other tightly, all they could do was pray...

...The pile of debris creaked ominously about them.

"By G'Quon, I do not like the sound of that," G'Kar said from where he was still stuck. They were almost out - past Delenn's shoulder, he could now see the brighter light. The area shifted more violently, the debris groaning with metallic protest.

"Delenn, it's going to come down," he said urgently. "Get out now."

"Not without you," she said through gritted teeth, trying to tug him forward.

"Delenn!"

"No!"...

...Sheridan watched in horror as the damaged outer face of the building twisted and lurched, then with a terrible shriek that lasted for several minutes tumbled and crashed to the ground, a billowing cloud of fine matter hurled high into the air.

Sheridan felt his last remaining hope freeze and die.

"Team Leaders! Team Leaders! Report!" Duncan was shouting into him comm-link. "Report!"

"Team One Leader. I think we all got clear. Just a sec while I do a head count."

"Team Two Leader. We're all fine and accounted for."

"Team One, again. A couple of us were hit by flying muck, but we're more or less OK."

"Team Three. Team Three, report now," Duncan ordered.

The channel opened and a voice could be heard coughing.

"This is Cole. Team Three Leader is pinned down and we've got two other injuries. We're sending them out now."

Nothing seemed to happen for several long minutes, then several stretchers were flown out from behind the building.

"Cole, report."

"It... uhh... A few gaps have opened in the debris piles - enough to give us access. It looks more or less steady and the rest of us are going in."

"Negative, Cole," Sheridan ordered, his face ashen. "I don't want you to risk your remaining team on the improbable event someone's behind there. Get out now. That's an order."

There was a pause, then: "I'm sorry, Captain, we didn't get that last bit - your signal's breaking up."

"Dammit, Marcus, don't do this. I can't afford to lose you too," John yelled, his fists clenched tightly. "Cole, that's an order."

Silence.

"Wait, over there..." Someone from Marcus' team said.

"Are they...?"

More silence: the tension outside the building thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Med team, prepare for incoming casualties," Marcus barked crisply. "One Minbari with fractured limbs and possible internals. One Centauri with an obvious head wound, possible other injuries."

Sheridan felt his heart begin to beat wildly with hope. 'Please, please,' he begged.

The team emerged from a gaping hole in the eastern face bearing two stretchers.

"Let me through!" Sheridan demanded of the milling crowd, pushing people out of his way. "Let me through!"

The first one landed was Vir, barely recognizable behind the clotted blood from a head wound and unconscious.

The other stretcher was set down gently, and he recognized the pale dust-coated features of Lennier.

"Delenn?" both men asked simultaneously, then closed their eyes in pain as each realized the other didn't know.

"Get them down to med-lab, stat!" a doctor ordered.

John pushed blindly back through the crowd. It was all over... she was gone...

There was nothing left to do but go back to his quarters and see if he could break the record for the fastest time to drink oneself into unconscious oblivion. Hell, after he'd been notified of Anna's death, he'd managed it in under two hours. His first officer had even supplied the scotch. Maybe if he tried hard, he could do it in less than one this time.

'Delenn!!' his soul screamed. Something obstructed his path and he pushed numbly, unseeingly against it for a long moment until he felt a sharp burst of pain from his shoulders.

Startled by the additional physical torment to his mental one, he lifted his head to look into the worried face of Michael Garibaldi.

"Captain... John." The man's fingers loosened their vice-like grip on his C.O's shoulders. "You gotta hold it together. If you don't and the Shadows hear about it **everyone** is doomed. Everyone." The Security Chief was speaking in a harsh, urgent whisper but he needn't have bothered - they were well away from the crowd gathered closer to the wreckage.

"She's gone, but you can't let go. She wouldn't have wanted you do. **Delenn** wouldn't have wanted you to - she would have wanted you to continue the fight in her name."

John had once told Lizzie that when Anna had died, she had taken the best part of him with her. Delenn... Delenn had taken that and everything else besides. He realized he didn't just want to drink himself senseless, where he'd wake up tomorrow morning and the unbearable ache would still be there, he wanted to curl up and die.

The pain and anguish in the Captain's eyes tore at him, but Garibaldi forced himself to continue - he had to break through this now, or Sheridan would be lost. He'd seen that look in men's eyes before. The look that said they just wanted to die and to get the hell away from them and let them do it in peace. And they often found away to make it happen. Not always deliberately, but because they no longer cared enough to look after themselves.

"This is war, John. People die. You loved her, but you're a soldier. You have to carry on - the galaxy need you." A piece of his own soul shriveled at the words.

The grief and despair in Sheridan's eyes changed in an instant to one of absolute fury.

"Frag the galaxy!" he yelled. "Frag it all! Frag you!" He drew back his arm, and sent his fist hurtling towards Garibaldi's jaw. But the other man had been expecting it, and easily ducked aside.

"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted the grief-stricken and enraged man, hating himself. Sheridan body slammed him, sending them both tumbling to the turf. Garibaldi rolled easily to pin the other man beneath him. "Hit me if you want - if you need to," he continued, "but hold on to that anger. Clasp it in your fist. Feel it burn in your gut so that you know you're still alive."

Sheridan snarled, rolling them over so he was on top, his hand drawn back to deliver a stunning blow. Suddenly, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind, pulling him off the prone man. He struggled, but was held in a professional lock.

"Easy, Captain," Zack Allen's voice came from near his ear. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Garibaldi climbed stiffly to his feet, indicating to Zack that they should take the wildly struggling Captain somewhere more private.

"Look!" A cry went up from the crowd that was gathered around the wreckage, and it was immediately echoed by a dozen throats. "Look!"

Garibaldi squinted back up at the wreckage that had once been Green Sector. Something was flapping... no, being waved from one of the shattered windows about half-way up the building.

John had ceased struggling and turned his head numbly to follow Garibaldi's gaze.

A brightly colored swathe of material was being waved from a window. A very familiar piece of material...

"Let me go!" he barked at Zack who still held him. "Let me go now!" Garibaldi nodded his assent, and the three of them raced back across the garden.

One of the rescue teams was already up there, scrambling through the jagged opening.

John shoved people out of his way, uncaringly left and right as he bore down on the rescue coordinator.

"Well?" he demanded, his eyes feverish. "Who is it?"

The man held up his hands in a gesture of ignorance, even as the comm-link crackled to life.

"We've got them. It's Citizen G'Kar and the Minbari Ambassador."

John stopped breathing, his entire existence hanging on the next words:

"They're alive!"

------------------------------


	8. Epilogue

A soft, comfortable warmth enveloped Delenn's body and she clung desperately to sleep wanting to remain in that familiar comfort for as long as possible. She drifted for a while in that timeless world between sleeping and waking, until she gradually became aware of the light penetrating her closed eyelids. She frowned with confusion: there shouldn't be any light. She and G'Kar were trapped...

Delenn opened her eyes, blinking to clear away the remaining sleep-induced confusion. The soft, diffuse light of a lamp filled the room. Of course: they had been rescued. She was no longer trapped in the cold, dark wreckage.

She became aware of her surroundings, trying to place the familiar feel. It wasn't her own quarters - they had been destroyed in the blast. It was...

John.

She turned her head on the pillow and saw him sprawled bonelessly on top of the bedclothes beside her. Her eyes traveled over his familiar features, noting with concern the heightened pallor, the dark marks of exhaustion under his eyes and the rough stubble covering his jaw. She squinted at a mark on his shirt... the brown-rust colored stain from where she had bled on him as he had held her following the rescue.

Lifting her head from the pillow, she realized for the first time she was lying on a partially slanted bed in John's quarters. She didn't know how he had managed to do it, but was grateful for the thought. Smiling, she turned back to him to be confronted by a pair of grey eyes.

"Hello." His voice was raspy from exhaustion and sleep.

"Hello." Her smile widened.

"Delenn..." Anguish, fear and relief mingled undisguised in his gaze.

Without saying a word, she opened her arms to him.

Slowly, gently, as if he thought she'd disappear or break, he wrapped his arms about her. Reassured that she was real, he tightened his grasp around her, burying his face in her neck. Infinitesimal tremors coursed through his body that grew in intensity until he was shaking.

"John," she whispered, cradling him closer - trying to wrap her spirit around his wounded soul to heal him.

The shuddering became more pronounced, bursting into low, gut wrenching sobs and hot tears soaked her smock. She stroked his hair and rocked him back and forth as she murmured words of comfort - her own face wet.

"Delenn..."

His hands slipped around her back, half lifting her off the bed as he pulled her closer.

After many long minutes the sobs tapered off to the occasional choked breath, and he relaxed his grip on her enough to let her lie back down. They remained entwined about each other, too emotionally spent to move.

"What happened?" Delenn asked quietly, still running her fingers through his short, soft hair. After the rescue, she and G'Kar had been whisked to med-lab, John adamantly refusing to budge from her side despite the Doctor's protests he was getting in the way. The whole area had been filled with wounded aliens from a wide range of species, but Delenn had not been told anything before she had lapsed into drug-assisted unconsciousness.

"Bomb," John said shortly, his breath brushing her collar bone. "Some Centauri Lord tried to have Londo assassinated then blame it on human extremists so he blew up green sector. Killed twenty and injured another fifty or sixty."

Delenn's hands froze as she felt fear grip her. "Lennier?"

"We pulled him and Vir out just before we found you and G'Kar... Or more correctly, before you signaled to us."

John smiled against Delenn's neck. With her concussion, Delenn had been attached to a cortical stimulator as soon as reaching med-lab, but G'Kar had remained conscious long enough to give them a report. He was still amazed. Not only that they'd survived the explosion, but they'd actually managed to climb up through two levels of twisted wreckage - she with a broken wrist, concussion and severe bruising and G'Kar with a fractured hip.

"Lennier had a broken leg and some crest damage." His hand wound around her head to lightly stroke the bone at her temple. "Lucky he's fully Minbari - otherwise he probably would have had a nasty concussion."

Delenn smiled, enjoying his gentle touch.

"And Londo?"

"Oh, he wasn't even there - apparently he was spending his evening being 'entertained' in some club. We didn't find out for hours he was still alive - he ignored the calls for everyone from Green Sector to report in. Said that the alerts must have come at 'inopportune moments.' Now he's alternately complaining about the fact that Vir is too injured to assist him and moaning about the temporary accommodation not being fit for an animal let alone the Centauri Ambassador."

That was typical of Londo, Delenn thought.

"Anyway, until we can manage repairs on Green Sector, accommodation is going to be scarce all over the station. You..." he fumbled, "You can stay here... if you want to, that is," he hastened to add. "I can go and bunk in with Garibaldi. Or on the couch in my office."

She was not exactly certain what 'bunk in' meant, but she understood the general meaning of his statement.

"I could not turn you out of your quarters," she protested. "I am sure we can share."

John stopped breathing for a moment, then let it out with a weak laugh. That would certainly give the rumor mill a work out: the Minbari Ambassador and the Commander of Babylon 5 sharing quarters... But then again, who cared what people thought? Still, there was Delenn... and the reaction of her people to such a situation.

"Yeah... well... I didn't... I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything by suggesting that," he said, trying to give her a way out if she wanted it.

Delenn frowned. "Why would I be uncomfortable?"

She felt him shake his head and thought she could detect some amusement in the gesture.

"Doesn't matter."

He lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and he still looked exhausted, but the terrible anguish had lifted from his soul. She softly traced his rough cheek and he closed his eyes, turning in to the gentle caress.

"Yeah... well... I'll let you get back to sleep, I guess. The doctor will flay me alive if I don't look after you properly. He only released you from med-lab into my care on the strict injunction that I make you rest and don't let you exert yourself." He gathered himself to pull away. "I'll be out on the couch, if you need me."

Her hands held him in place and he turned a questioning gaze upon her.

"John... would... would you stay? I... when we were trapped, it was cold and dark. I... I would like to sleep, knowing you are close by."

He smiled, brushing the hair back from her face with his fingertips.

"Of course."

Kicking off his boots, he climbed under the covers and tentatively wrapped his arms about her.

Sighing, Delenn snuggled into the embrace, already drifting back to sleep feeling warm, safe... and loved.

END: Strange Bedfellows


End file.
